Shall We Dance?
by Juliet Norrington
Summary: My entry in March Hare's BST contest. Holmes's PoV of the dancing lesson scene.


**Shall We Dance?**

By Juliet Norrington

*grumbles something about FFN and Microsoft having different ways of counting* Huh? Oh, heh, 'ello everyone! This is my entry in March Hare's nifty little contest. XD 'tis not a very serious entry because I really don't care if I win; it was a lot of fun to write and helped me on my Holmes-writing skills for BSFA, so I'm happy. Tell me if I should continue this after the contest is over- seems a bit incomplete, no?

Legal Disclaimer (sung to the tune of "Old MacDonald"):

Old Sir Arthur wrote some books, E-I-E-I-O!

And March Hare wrote cool fics, E-I-E-I-O!

And I don't own them, so please don't sue,

Here a "don't," there a "sue," everywhere a "don't sue,"

Please don't sue me 'cause I'm broke, E-I-E-I-O!

(Hare's disclaimer- I changed the second line to include her XD)

Holmes's PoV

-----------------------------------------------o.O;;

Why did I allow myself to be pulled into this? Dancing lessons indeed. Why had I even agreed to stay? THAT question I could answer, uncomfortable though it was. It was the look in Nona's eyes when she heard about the ball. The way her beautiful face light up, and fell when she heard Sherrinford say he would convey our condolences for not being able to attend. It was then, in a stupid, impulsive move that I agreed to stay. 

God, I wish I had dragged both Nona and Watson back to Baker Street where we belonged. Where I wouldn't be bullied into talking dancing lessons from *Mycroft* of all people! He had talked Watson and Sherrinford into helping him on his little endeavor, and set the four of us up in the music room. Throwing a lace tablecloth at Sherrinford, he turned and marched Watson over to the piano. Sherrinford eyed the tablecloth, but sighed and began to tie it around his waist. I rolled my eyes- I certainly don't blame him for being hesitant.

"Now, begin." Mycroft instructed, and Watson began to pound away at the piano. Funny, I never knew he could play. Sherrinford took my hands, and I tried to remember the steps I learned as a child while he tried not to lead. We certainly made a clumsy couple.

"One-two-three, one-two-three, one- oh, come on, Sherlock; it's like riding a bicycle! You never forget!" Mycroft sighed.

"It's all well and good for you to say 'come on,' but what the devil am I supposed to do with my left foot while I'm turning with my right?! And you've made me lose count!" I snapped, embarrassed.

"You aren't supposed to count, Sherlock, let the music count for you!" Sherrinford said and Watson began to emphasize every third note harder than he had before.

"One- two-three, one-two-three!" Mycroft barked. "One-two- oh, look out!"

Sherrinford and I shouted in unison as we tripped over the tablecloth. We crashed into each other, managing to rip the fabric on the way down. Watson stopped playing to openly gape at us, which I considered very rude. However, before I had a chance to mention this, women's laughter and applause echoed through the room as the door was pushed open and Theresa, Holly, and Nona entered. 

"Bravo!" Nona managed to say, clapping. "Bravo! Encore!" Sherrinford and I struggled to our feet, and I could feel my cheeks turning scarlet. 

"Nona, whatever you were going to say, don't say it!" I growled.

"Actually, Holmes," She started, overcoming her mirth "you've saved me an embarrassing request. I never learned how to dance and wanted to beg lessons, but I wasn't sure if I should. Now we can learn together!"

I straightened my jacket. "I already know how to dance, Nona; I was merely refreshing my memory."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. In that case, I can learn and you can refresh your memory at the same time. I might be a better dancing partner than your brother, anyway." She grinned at Sherrinford. "By the way, Squire, you simply MUST give me the name of your seamstress."

Sherrinford managed something about "trade secrets" and jerked at the tablecloth as Theresa and Holly snickered as Holly removed the offending item and put it aside.

"Well," Mycroft said, "it seems that we have a change of partners. Doctor, if you please." Watson nodded and turned back to the piano. "Nona, I believe that you receive the better end of the proverbial stick in this lesson," Mycroft continued. "Since the woman allows the man to lead in the dance, your task is to anticipate Sherlock's movements and try not to step on his feet."

Nona grinned and stepped closer to me. She slipped her hand into mine, and suddenly I realized how small and soft her hand was. Instinctively, I slip my other hand around her waist and pulled her closer to me. My heart began to beat like an internal drum as she picked up her skirt with her free have and looked up at me. Her eyes looked as nervous as I felt.

"Begin," Mycroft commanded, and the waltz began again. I silently counted as I spun her across the floor. My feet began to remember the old patterns more easily with her than they had with Sherrinford as a partner.

"Ouch!" Nona cried, releasing me and clutching her foot. "Ow! Holmes! That was my foot!"

I opened my mouth to apologize, but Mycroft stopped me, "Now, now, the blame is partly yours, Nona. As I said earlier, you need to anticipate Sherlock's movements."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Nona asked. "It's not like I'm psychic."

"I believe it is comparable to your actions in Baker Street," I replied, "when you often foresee what I need before I ask for it."

"But that's not prediction; that's just using my head."

"Precisely." I held out my arms impatiently. "Use your head, Nona, and try to anticipate where and when I move."

She lifted her chin and resolutely stepped into my embrace as the song began again. I closely concentrated on my footwork to try and make it as easy for her as possible, and after a few revolutions we fell into step with each other and began to relax. Watson began to play more easily, and Mycroft stopped correcting us every damn second. I lost myself in her eyes, and in the dance.

An immeasurable time later, the music ended abruptly. Nona and I were so caught up that we continued a few steps before we realized the silence. "I'm sorry, Holmes, Nona," Watson apologized, stretching his fingers. "I just can't play any longer."

"That's quite all right, doctor," Mycroft replied, in an odd tone. "I believe that they have grasped the rudimentary basics, at any cost." He was staring at Nona like he had never seen her before. I sent a quick glare his way as I watched Nona grow uncomfortable.

 "Well, good, I'm glad. Um. . . then I'll be in the library, I suppose." She smiled, and hastily retreated. On the way out, she had glanced back at me, and our eyes met. I saw only one thing in her eyes.

Love.

What the *hell* was I going to do? 


End file.
